


Shattered Lives

by codafortuna



Series: Shattered Lives [1]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Blood and Injury, Green (OC) - Freeform, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, OC, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codafortuna/pseuds/codafortuna
Summary: After the events of Who Killed Markiplier, the District Attorney escapes the mirror to a life she doesn't remember
Series: Shattered Lives [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199114
Kudos: 3





	Shattered Lives

Existence. That was the first thing they knew, a moment where they started to think, to feel, to be. What they were, who they were, didn’t come along with that moment, just the confirmation of existence with no memory or comprehension of why. Their first memory dragged into their second, then their third, each second an agonizing lifetime until they started to breathe again, and time started again. Each second felt shorter than the last, each breath less fresh and new, until they were existing with no fanfare.  
At first, all they knew was darkness. They didn’t even know if it was darkness, as they had no memory of anything else. Gradually, they became aware that they had form. Appendages they could neither see nor recognize attached to a form their existence was tethered to. They never wondered where they were, never wondered what they looked like, as they’d never needed to before. They didn’t know how long they floated in the nothingness, but, eventually, they became aware of something else. It wasn’t something like them, but… it was near them. They only learned of the Other’s existence thanks to a quick brush, a sound of surprise echoed by both of them. The first sound either of them had probably ever made.  
In that touch, they discovered something else in the dark, a soft glow of another color. Though they didn’t know how, they knew it by name. Blue. But whatever the Blue was, they weren’t able to catch up with them again, and resumed their quiet loneliness. Part of them wished they hadn’t met the Other at all. At least before this, they hadn’t known they could possibly be alone.  
Alone.  
Alone.  
Time slipping past in a soft, dead silence. Flickers of memory that they couldn’t understand or describe. Part of them thought sometimes they witnessed something, but they forgot about it again almost instantly. It slipped through their invisible fingers like…. Sand. Somehow they knew what sand was. But the moment they tried to remember what sand was it was gone again. And, with the half-formed memories, a soft voice, whispering to them.  
Did you miss me? Because I missed you. Very. Much.  
I’m done giving people a choice.  
Life is ours to choose.  
The words bled together, practically on loop with the memories. They came out of order and distorted, strange. They didn’t know why, but those words stayed with them when the memories dusted themselves away.  
Time went on. The loops went on. The memories came, they faded, the words came, they faded, and then, one day, they stopped coming at all. They didn’t know why, or when exactly, but, at one point, their world became silent and lonely. They reached out for the source of it, desperate for the confusion, desperate for the loss, desperate to just feel anything other than the crushing loneliness. But there was nothing waiting for them, nothing else. They just stayed there, existing. The darkness was the only thing existing other than themselves. Why did they exist? Just to float alone in a world of emptiness, longing for something they knew they’d forget? What was the point of it?  
Little by little, the darkness closed in on them. They lost all sense of their appendages, their form, feeling a little more of them slip away day by day as they sat and wondered what it would be like to just not exist again. Would it be easier? To just stop this neverending loop of empty, quiet misery? Or would they have been better off never having anything change at all? Maybe if they’d just floated silently in the ether, they would be fine today.  
Their form shrank more and more as they closed their eyes once more, ready for that moment again when they’d come into existence. Ready for it to be over.  
And then, through the darkness, flared a color so intense and bright that it instantly burned every part of their body. It ate up the darkness, destroying it as, for the first time, they heard a voice next to them.  
“No.”  
And the world exploded.

She landed in a pile of broken glass, screaming as a jumble of experiences and memories shot through her. Glass sliced her hands and knees, spraying fresh blood over the elegant marble floor. A floor she’d seen before. She knew this house, knew this world, she’d been here before, but she couldn’t make sense of all the images flying through her head. The screaming continued, and it was only when her senses returned that she realized it was coming from her.  
Tears streaming from her eyes, she scrambled off of the glass, moving carefully as though she’d walked across it before, trying to force herself to remember. Her entire body ached as though it hadn’t moved in centuries. Centuries.  
A laugh bubbled out of her as she realized she knew what a century was. What glass was. Her memories stayed with her, but they were jumbled and confused. Her voice cracked as well, throat aching as she made a sound for the first time. Hunger and thirst washed over her, and some memory she couldn’t access guided her across the marble floor. She stumbled forward, trying not to scream at the glass buried in her feet.  
An elegant staircase. A suit of armor. A ballroom. Memories she had, places she knew, but like empty glasses that used to hold champagne, long since drained of any meaning. The halls echoed, but were eerily clear of dust and buildup that should have been evident after what felt like so many years. It was as though the place had stood in silent anticipation for countless years, holding its breath as it waited for… something. Something to happen.  
She found herself in the kitchen, a strange, gremlin-like statue of a chef awaiting her. For some reason, she found herself thinking of it like a buddy of some kind, and rested her hand against its ceramic surface. It was then that, for the first time since coming here, she actually looked at her skin. It was pale white, eerily smooth and almost featureless, as though carved from the same clay of the chef’s hat. No veins scattered the surface of her wrists, no blood brought flush to the backs. The place where the glass had cut was as smooth as ever, no trace of the previous damage there, save for a small spot of red that looked somehow absurd against such a pale background.  
Thirst and hunger forgotten, she looked up, catching sight of her reflection in the window. She didn’t recognize the person looking back. She felt that she should have, that there was enough there that felt familiar, but had she always been so…. Strange? But what about her was strange? It wasn’t the lack of hair, or the sharp and axe-like features. The colors were all wrong, but she didn’t know what they were supposed to be to look normal. She was as pale and bloodless in the face as she was in the hands, but that almost felt normal. The same with her eyes, which practically leapt off of her face in an unearthly emerald color. Letting her gaze travel down her own reflection, she paused as she realized for the first time what she was wearing. A black, ill-fitting suit, worn open over a loose white shirt and an open green tie. She looked like the morning after, and it definitely didn’t look right on her. She wasn’t sure what she should be wearing, but something told her that this look had been made for someone else, and then dumped on her.  
But she wasn’t exactly in a position to change clothes right now. The last thing she needed was to be caught getting changed in someone else’s house. Assuming this was someone else’s house. Everything around her felt eerily familiar, as though she’d spent years getting to know these halls, did she know for sure that it wasn’t her home? Maybe this little buddy was her little buddy…  
She took a few desperate sips of water, picked up the little buddy, and walked back the way she’d come, pausing in the drawing room as she saw a wall filled with various bits of meaningless papers and photos. Something about it felt familiar, but, just as strongly, something about it made her feel uncomfortable. Like she’d walked into a room that, at one point, had held a body. Then she heard a noise.  
It was a quiet noise, barely audible, and yet the interruption of the heavy silence felt as loud as a gunshot. Turning around, holding Little Buddy close to her chest protectively, she turned in surprise to see herself. At least, what looked like herself. Somehow more like herself than dhe felt she did. This one had her face, but her eyes were the color of rubies, the same shade as the torn blazer she wore over a bare white chest. Something about her looked much sharper than what should have been normal, as though, if touched, her skin would slice you open.  
Green looked at Red, who was crouched on the ground, watching her in an unnatural silence. It was only after a moment or two of looking that Green even noticed that, twisted in her hands, Red was holding a black deerstalker.  
“Hello….” Green said uncertainly, not really sure what she even expected. Red just stared at her, unblinking, before pulling her lips back into a sneer. As her lips parted, Green stumbled back as she saw Red’s mouth was filled with pointy, glass-like teeth. She barely managed to hold onto Little Buddy as Red let out a noise not unlike a snicker and dashed off, the deerstalker in her teeth, leaving Green alone again.


End file.
